


Ghosting

by sunflower_kid



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Memories, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Gen, Ghost Nico di Angelo, Ghosts, M/M, Nico is Cold, One-Sided Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson, Sad Nico di Angelo, Sad Will Solace, Slow Burn, Talking To Dead People, Tall Nico, Will Solace Sees Dead People, Will Solace is a Mess, Will is Warm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_kid/pseuds/sunflower_kid
Summary: Nico di Angelo is a ghost. Since he died in 1945, he’s been unable to interact or communicate with the world around him. Yet there has been no bright light or council of judgment. Just mindlessly wandering the streets of New York, day after day. That is until he knocks into a blonde boy with intense blue eyes— literally.Will Solace sees dead people. For as long as he can remember, spirits have melded into crowds, street corners, and bus stops, for only his eyes to notice. After being hospitalized for most of his young life, he’s made an effort to disregard the apparitions which haunt his surrounding world every day. But when he physically makes contact with one…that’s hard to ignore. (Ghost AU) (Multi-Chapter)
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo & Will Solace, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 25
Kudos: 75





	1. Are You There God? It’s Me, Nico di’Angelo

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, what’s up? You’re looking fantastic today. Thanks for clicking on my story. Super cool to have you here.
> 
> Now, I know all you want to do is get to the good stuff, but before that, I’ve got a few things I’d like to establish. (Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.)
> 
> [Discrepancy in Timeline]: Nico is aged up in this story, so his birth year is slightly pushed back, for time-line purposes.
> 
> [Ages for Reference]: Nico’s ghost appears 16. Will is 16. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover are 18. Cecil and Lou Ellen are both 16. Jason, Piper, and Leo are 17. Hazel is 16. Frank is 17.
> 
> That’s all. Commence.

It was half past 5 o’clock when an apparition leisurely stood across the street from the mostly empty chain restaurant, shocking anyone who happened to accidentally pass through his incorporeal form with a wave of sudden chills.

Every Wednesday he found himself in front of the small McDonald’s, waiting patiently for the same boy. Someone who always managed to show up about thirty minutes late, much to the exasperation of his friends.

Everything was overwhelmingly cold. When you’re translucent, heat doesn’t tend to absorb inside your form. Even the rays of sunlight now, which were beginning to dwindle over the tall apartment buildings in the distance, shot straight through his being, leaving no shadow to indicate he was there. No evidence he existed, now- or ever.

Yet, the cold didn’t bother him. Not anymore. It used to— he used to shake to no end, recoil as at night the piercing frigidness turned sharper, torturous. He’d cry out into the empty void of apathetic phantoms and oblivious living beings, quivering to his non-existent bones.

This is how all new spirits start their afterlives. Disoriented, distressed, and submerged in an inescapable vat of ice water. Eventually, you go numb. Everybody does. All that’s ever left is waiting.

As the time ran past 5:45, the familiar rasp of a skateboard’s wheels on the sidewalk cut through the air, clicking every time they past over a crack.

“Right on time.” Murmured the ghost, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Standing up straight from where he’d been floating back against a railing, he took one step out onto the busy street and disappeared in a wisp of nothing.

As the skateboarder came to an abrupt stop in front of the restaurant’s glass doors, kicking the board up into his right hand’s grip, Nico di’Angelo stepped out of thin air, as if he’d strolled all the way across the street.

“Hey, Percy.” He said casually, coming up next to the boy.

The eighteen-year-old paid no mind to him, peering into the restaurant’s door to see his two friends sitting in the farthest booth from the counter. Percy grinned to himself.

“You look nice today.” Nico added. Percy’s slightly damp jet black hair was windswept and wild, sea green eyes sparkling with a sort of playfulness one gets when sharing an inside joke with an old friend. Over his jeans and t-shirt he wore a dark blue sweatshirt advertising his school’s swim team. He did look nice, but he also looked the same as always.

Pushing the door open with his back, Percy made his way over to his friends. Nico followed, having to fade through the second door after it closed on him.

“Finally.” Said a blonde girl, Annabeth, waving Percy over. She made it sound annoyed, but there was a fond smile playing on her lips.

“Missed you too, Wise Girl.” Percy spoke, leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek. Her smile widened, face flush. Nico felt something dead in his chest twitch. “‘Sup Grover.” Percy greeted his friend who sat opposite to Annabeth with a quick sideways fist bump.

Shoving his skateboard under the table, Percy slid in next to his girlfriend. Nico evaporated, reappearing on Grover’s right. Sometimes, if he turned his brain off and zoned out into the three friend’s conversations, he managed to forget all about the fact that none of them could see him. Sometimes it was like he was actually apart of their tight-knit trio. Like they’d— Percy’d— invited him out as well. Most of the time it was just depressing. Regardless, he didn’t leave.

“How was swim?” Grover asked, devouring a burger. In front of him was an assortment of food, along with two milk shakes and a large fries. Nico couldn’t remember what food tasted like, no matter how hard he’d tried to regain the feeling of eating his mother’s homemade ravioli. If he could taste again, though, the first thing he’d do would be come here.

Percy shrugged, leaning over to snatch one of his friend’s chicken nuggets. “Same as usual, I guess. Coach Hedge nearly killed JV. In the locker room, like, three sophomores were puking their guts out.”

“Oh god, don’t tell us that.” Annabeth gagged, turning the page of a textbook about some advanced math Nico would most likely never understand.

A mischievous grin grew on Grover’s face. “You know, Annabeth was just telling me—”

There was a thump under the table and a loud “Ow!” from Grover as Annabeth quickly cut him off. “Nothing.” She glared, sharp grey eyes giving off an edge of warning. Nico leaned in, interested.

“What?” Percy asked, his own grin brewing. “Now I’ve got to know.”

“Well, maybe if you’d shown up on time for once...” She let that trail off.

Percy made a face that could only be described as a pout. “Seriously?” He asked, turning to Grover who shook his head and shrugged.

Annabeth rolled her eyes as she closed her textbook completely. A page of notebook paper next to her was littered with equations and a jumbled mess of numbers, written fully in pen with no noticeable mistakes. “Really, it was nothing.”

Percy looked mildly disappointed, but quickly compensated for this by grabbing one of Grover’s milkshakes, met with an annoyed, “Hey!” Nico himself couldn’t help but stare curiously at Annabeth, wondering what had been said.

He’d never been her biggest fan. Granted, he couldn’t say he knew much about the girl other then Percy felt an undying obligation to her... That, and she once told Percy his broken ankle would have to be amputated after he jumped off a swing set when they were twelve.

She was good, though. Good for Percy. She made him happy in ways Nico never could, being...dead and all. At least, it seemed like she did. So, she was _good_. Still, he couldn’t help but feel this sinking _want_ in his gut, selfishly twisting his thoughts. Sometimes he just wished— _maybe_ , if Percy had stayed—

“So, race this weekend?” Annabeth asked, leaning her elbow against the table.

Percy smirked. “Yeah, against the Romans.”

Grover stared with wide eyes of excitement. “No way! Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Percy’s own excitement filled his tone. He really loved swimming, it was his entire life, and anybody who heard him talk about the sport could easily see the amount of passion burning in his expression for it. Nico had tried to attend one of his races before, purely out of boredom and perhaps some to do with his obsession with the life of a person who, by their known memory, had never met Nico. Needless to say, it didn’t go exactly to plan. Nico isn’t the biggest fan of water. “I’m inviting Grace just so he can watch me kick his school’s ass.”

“He’s already beat us in track and field.” Annabeth reminded.

Percy threw an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, Annabeth.” He reprimanded playfully. “Don’t you know anything about competition? This is why it’s so important that we win and he sees it.”

“Whatever you say, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth responded loosely, leaning into his touch. “I’ll be sitting with Piper, anyways.”

“The enemies?!” Percy gasped in mock offence. “You traitor!”

The blonde laughed, eyes glittering with affection. “She goes to our school.”

“So what? She’s dating Jason. She’s got a soft spot for _Romans_. Same with Valdez. Can’t trust him.”

“For the record, I like Valdez.” Grover supplied.

Nico didn’t understand more then half of what they were talking about, but allowing himself to drift off into the meaningless bickering was much better background noise then his own pitiful memories. Not to mention the dejected drivel of actual ghosts, the worst company one could ask for. His brief illusion was interrupted, though, when Percy reached over to grab a napkin and ended up with an arm straight through Nico.

The skateboarder recoiled, pulling his arm back with a thick shiver visibly running down his spin. The familiar emptiness of being past through settled in Nico’s stomach; but, somehow, it felt worse then usual. Like saying hello to someone you thought was your friend, only to find they barley even know your name.

“Percy?” Annabeth questioned, eyebrows raised in sudden concern.

He shook his head, waving her off nonchalantly, though his face was creased in contemplation. Something unreadable to Nico swirled in his eyes. “Nothing— just a random chill. It’s cold in here.”

Sinking back slightly, Nico stared down at the table with a frown. Having your livelihood boiled down to a “sudden chill” was one thing. Coming from Percy— it ached. He was used to this. So why was it piercing his gut? What was he expecting?

“I should probably get home soon.” Percy supplied, and that’s the moment Nico took to disappear.

* * *

He reappeared on a calmer sidewalk, though in Manhattan that wasn’t saying much. Taxis whizzed by, business suite clad men and women rushing out to hail one quickly. An old woman and two teens waited for the bus. A lady in a tan trench coat pushed a baby carriage home.

Nico stared down at his hands, pressed up close to the wall of a tall building. He could see the pavement directly below them, cracks stretching out in random directions. If he reached down now his palms would fuse straight through the ground.

They weren’t really _hands_. Not in a literal sense... He couldn’t hold anything, unless it happened to be attached to the ghostly realm. No, they used to be hands. Now they were just glowing orbs of blue-ish mist, easily overlooked due to their translucent nature.

He clenched them into fists. At least he could do that. And shove his hands into his pockets. Not that he could feel the weight of the aviator jacket’s lining against his fingers anymore, like he used to all those years ago. Or the heat that brewed when enclosing appendages in fabric.

Not that he could feel anything anymore.

_Used to it. I’m used to it._

Hands in his pockets as they were, Nico began aimlessly wandering. Unsurprisingly, this is how he spent most of his time, when he wasn’t haunting Percy.

Usually his thoughts came in convoluted swirls of memories. Sometimes he pays more attention to the surroundings he passes, most of which he’s seen before one thousand times over. Sometimes he completely looses himself in the coiling recollections. This can go on for days on end without Nico being aware time has past. Once he lost an entire month in what felt like an hour.

But today he didn’t really want to think. So, instead, he kept his eyes foreword, and focused on the people approaching him.

A man walking home his young child attempted to have what looked like an important conversation on the phone. The little kid skipped along, holding his hand, but as soon as they both walked through Nico the kid’s wide smile was completely gone.

He didn’t bother stepped out of people’s ways anymore. He never did.

The next person was a lady and her small terrier type dog. The dog began rapidly yipping, staring straight at Nico with wild eyes. This didn’t phase him— it happened all the time. Animals have a strange sense of the dead. Of course, the dog couldn’t do anything to him. The woman simply tugged on the dog’s leash, scolding it as they continued on. She pulled her jacket around her body tighter as they both past Nico, turning around for a moment as if expecting to see something.

What he wouldn’t give to be any one of them— droning on in their day to day lives. Even if he had to be reincarnated into a dog, like the little scrappy terrier. He’d take that in a heartbeat. He’d take _anything_ that wasn’t the trapping loneliness of his own—

Nico’s body hit something solid, knocking his form backwards a few steps until he was able to catch himself with air.

 _Solid_. His pulse increased rapidly, glancing over his body frantically for any indication that he was alive. No— the translucent blue glowed back at him. Still a ghost. Still dead. How—

He lifted his gaze. In front of him stood a blonde boy with vivid blue eyes, guilelessly wide. Staring— staring at Nico. _Straight_ at Nico. Not through him but— _at_ him.

But how? How could that be possible?

The back of his brain buzzed with some form of giddiness, yet the skeptical side of him reigned supreme. There must’ve been something behind him. Timidly, he swivelled his head to check. But— nothing happening justified _that_ look. And as he turned back around, seeing the boy still there, clutching a backpack, he realized what sort of look _that_ was. The expression of someone who’d just seen a ghost.

“You—” He started weakly, but the boy had already turned around and began briskly walking in the opposite direction.

“Wait! No!” Nico desperately scrambled forward, though he wasn’t even sure if the boy could hear him. His mind was reeling with the possibility of something different. He couldn’t lose this. He _had_ to know. “Please! Please, I—” Without thinking, he reached forward in a helpless attempt to grab hold of the boy’s arm—

—And finger’s curled around a lanky upper bicep. He— he was holding. Holding onto his arm. There was absolutely no denying it. And it felt warm. _Oh so warm_. The type of heat you could melt into. The type of heat Nico hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. That Nico had forgotten the sensation of. How could he forget? How could he forget something that felt so good?

The blonde boy turned to face him, expression a hard line between absolutely astonished and completely appalled. His gaze fixed to where Nico’s hand was latched onto him. He seemed paralyzed.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away, snatching his arm back and rubbing the area they’d connected as if he’d been shocked. Nico’s short reminder of warmth immediately dissipated, fingertips reverting to their usual state of piercing coldness. Aware of what he was missing, it felt worse.

“How did you do that?” The boy asked sharply, almost accusingly, holding his backpack out in front of him as if he was afraid Nico might pounce.

“I—I—” Nico stuttered dumbly. He stared down at his hand, the one that had made contact with the boy’s warm skin. Then, he looked back up at the boy. His sky blue eyes were startling. Freckles crowded his face. “You can see me?”

The boy’s gaze softened slightly, but he still seemed extremely on edge. “Yeah, I can...do that.” He spoke uncomfortably, eyes swivelling around at passing pedestrians, as if trying to gauge reactions. It looked like he wanted to bolt.

“And— hear me?” Nico knew the answer, but his brain had short circuited. He felt the boy’s response repeating like a broken record against his ear drums. _Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah—_

“Yes.” The boy confirmed uneasily.

“And, I _touched_...” Nico began, mystified.

“That part isn’t normal.” The blonde tightly interrupted him, securing his hold on his backpack. “So tell me how you did it.” Even he seemed unsure about the words he spoke though, and his voice followed suite, quavering slightly.

Nico shook his head, “It wasn’t—”

“Hey, kid!” Snapped the irritated voice of a man holding a grease covered paper plate. “You’re blocking the trash can talking to yourself.”

The freckled boy’s face flushed with embarrassment, head hanging low as he swiftly got out of the man’s way and began marching straight towards a discreet alley where a dumpster was tucked.

Nico followed, though he couldn’t help but eye the guy with the paper plate for a moment. He hadn’t magically become seeable to everybody. Or— tangible. Or however he should put it. No— it was just this one kid. For some odd reason. And it had to mean something.

He’d never been very religious. Not like his mom, who was a devout Catholic. Or— his sister. And since dying, even more so, his faith in any sort of deity giving all of them some important purpose and direction in this mess of a life dwindled until it was almost non-existent. But...this must’ve been a sign. Right?

The boy did sort of look like an angel...

Oh god, had he really just thought that?

“Having an existential crises already?” Asked the boy weakly, startling Nico out of his thoughts. That’s a new one. He’d made it to the alley and hadn’t even noticed. “Er— I mean, I guess you can’t really have one of those anymore, right? ‘Cause...” The boy awkwardly trailed off, though Nico could fill in the blank. He himself stayed silent, unsure of what exactly to say. He’s never been not much of a conversationalist...more so after all the time he’s had to himself, that is.

Glancing down at the backpack he was still holding out in front of him, the blonde held a frown on his face. He was staring at Nico now, _really_ staring at him, as if trying to discern something from Nico’s face. There was something euphoric about being studied and not looked past. But, at the same time, Nico wanted him to stop. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

As if he’d decided on something, blondie dropped his backpack-shield, slipping it over his shoulders. “Look...” He began, clasping his hands together. “Um...?”

He was staring at Nico expectantly. If Nico had flesh, he’d probably be blushing. “I don’t...”

“Your name?” The boy questioned, with some amusement.

“Oh— Oh. Nico, it’s—it’s Nico.” His social cues were seemingly a little rusty.

“Right. I’m Will.” The name was fitting for the boy. Not that Nico knew many people— anymore. Subsequently, he’d never met a _Will_ until now. It rolled off the tongue. In his mind.

Will took a breath for a moment, as if collecting himself, and then he was making direct eye contact with Nico. “I don’t usually do this, okay? Or I haven’t, in a long time. But clearly there’s something different about you. So, I’m going to make an exception and...and I’m going to help you. Okay?” His face was completely serious, and his tone didn’t sound like he was leaving room for an argument. Not that Nico would dream of arguing with that.

But he couldn’t stop his mind from having difficulty wrapping around most of what the boy was saying. More importantly— “ _Help?_ ” Nico’s words were shrouded in veiled doubt that Will seemed to catch.

“I’ll explain. Soon. Just...not here.” He’d lowered his voice slightly, motioning out towards the sidewalk stiffly.

“Right.” Nico nodded, still at a loss for most words.

They stood there for a second. Then, Will was clearing his throat. “Just follow me.”

With that he made a beeline for the sidewalk, and Nico, with a new sense of weird purpose having been thrust upon his afterlife, floated after the golden haired boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed. Comments are deeply appreciated. See ya for the next one.


	2. The Haunting of Will Solace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s up, guys? Back at it again, yeah? Another chapter, ready for all of you, ‘cause I love you so much.
> 
> Uh, so, personal talk real quick: this chapter was not supposed to take this long to upload.
> 
> I actually was emitted into a psychiatric hospital, I just got home a couple days ago— but I’m out now and I’m on meds. The diagnoses so far is Borderline Personality Disorder. I’m just leaving this here for people to know they’re not alone, you can get the help you need; especially if one of you is in a similar situation to me.
> 
> Anyways, enough of that. I know you want to read some juicy solangelo. Continue, my friend...

Will Solace has always been complimented on his caring nature.

By his mother, especially, when she gets a little drunk and a little reminiscent and decides to let Will in on a bit of himself as a child; overly friendly, a bit too good at sharing. The type of four-year-old that’d start up a conversation with the elderly woman sitting alone on the bus.

Of course, she leaves out the parts that make him seem less childishly charming and more disturbed. Like how he’d always offer the little girl at the playground his stuffed lion to try and stop her wailing cries— the little girl, who by all other accounts, didn’t exist. Or how he’d section off half his dinner for the old man with the wooden cane who followed him around for an entire year.

His father told him too. Once. The only time Will has ever met the man in person and been old enough to remember it. He’d been eight and in the heat of a Texas summer, his dad had taken him and his two older brothers out for ice cream. A rare treat. Despite this, Lee had been irritated that day, and only seemed to get more annoyed as their father tried to make the outing eventful. Will hadn’t really understood at the time why he was snapping at everybody, or glaring holes into their dad. What he had known was Lee was distraught, and so instead of ordering his own favorite ice cream flavor, he ordered his brother’s (Rocky Road), and gave the plastic cup filled with two scoops of chocolate, nuts, and marshmallows to him.

His dad, seeing the exchange, had clamped a hand on Will’s shoulder and said, “You must be one of the nicest kids I’ve ever met.”

Sometimes he’s not sure if he deserves the acknowledgment. Considering how many people— _ghosts_ — who he’s left to suffer alone. Figments of their past selves, stuck endlessly in their own lonely memories, just looking to communicate with somebody—

No. He knows he shouldn’t feel bad. He’s done _enough_. As a kid. He’s helped enough. But the feeling still gnaws at him, guilty wearing away his thoughts. If anybody better then him had this ability, _knew_ how to help the apparitions, they’d be doing it every single day. Not training themselves to ignore them. He should. He should be helping. Isn’t it his obligation? _Isn’t it_?

It’s a dangerous game. The guilt. Because he knows ghosts. Most ghosts.

They have never cared much for him, no matter how much Will tries to expend himself. They stick around even if he wants them to leave. They attach themselves to him once they know about his ability. They connect to his emotions and force memories of their graphic deaths into his thoughts like waking nightmares. He’s had insomnia for most of his young life. Three different psychiatrists have diagnosed him with some form of sleep paralysis.

They don’t do it on purpose. (Most, at least. He’s dealt with his fair share of hostile spirits.) They’re desperate. They need help. So Will did. Until things changed.

It’s been five years since he’s done this. If only he had a voice of reason right now, stopping him before he pushed himself too deep. Getting mixed up in a dead person’s past is never smart; but there is no denying what stood out about this one encounter, from of the hundreds he’s experienced.

Foremost, dead people can’t _touch_. Will knows this. It’s probably one of the only things, in a small list, that he can say he knows for sure about the luminescent beings. Or— at least— he thought he did.

Now he’s beginning to question just about all the information he’s managed to collect on the undead, as the spot where a ghost _touched_ him still sizzles like dry ice.

Whatever this meant, he couldn’t avoid the boy now. Not after revealing his ability so blatantly. All he can do is help him as quickly as possible. That he knew how to accomplish. That he _would_ accomplish. Then this one— weird— chance encounter can be pushed far behind him. He’s got med school to think about, after all. His future.

On the bright side, Nico doesn’t seem hostile. So far.

Tugging his keys out of his pocket, Will flips carefully to the one which opens his apartment’s door. Behind him he can feel Nico, and that’s maybe why his actions are a little slower and lot more cautious. He’d felt the ghost all the way home, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. The now revealed fact that the boy can touch him is forcing Will into hyper awareness of all the ghost’s actions. The knowledge carries a heavy weight with it.

Luckily, Nico hadn’t made a move to grab Will again. He didn’t speak much, either. Which was a good thing. The talkative ones are the worst.

Still, the cold air brushing past his neck and over his shoulders is nothing less then unnerving. And as he stuck the correct key into the apartment’s lock, he couldn’t help but turn around. Just to check.

Nico is standing back far enough to respect his personal space, but his presence has still dropped the hallway they stand in a few degrees colder. One thing that Will can say for sure is ghosts are like walking air conditioning units. He’d have to put a fleece on when he got inside.

The boy’s entire being is a pale, translucent blue. This is true for all ghosts. It’s only if you look close enough— or have spent enough time examining them— that you see the hints of something that used to be there. Different colors faded until they were almost nonexistent to the passing eye. Like Nico’s jacket, something you’d see an old time-y pilot wearing. The color clearly used to be some form of brown. (Vaguely Will wondered if this was an indication of how long he’d been dead.) Or, his eyes. Very dark. Maybe even black.

Nico sees Will staring and gives him a slight smile which comes off more like a grimace. It’s kind of sad. Regardless, the gesture is clear. He’s trying to be nice. _Of course he is. I’m the only person on earth who can see him._

Trying for a strained smile in return, Will turns back around and pushes into his home. What had Lou said yesterday at lunch? You’re the worst at faking smiles, Will. If he’s not an idiot, according to Lou, Nico could probably see right through the attempt. He couldn’t help the guilt that settled inside his stomach from the thought, but it didn’t last long. You don’t even know him. Will reasoned. He could’ve been a mass murderer.

Suddenly, his blood ran cold. Oh god. What if— Could Nico hurt him?

“Did I do something?” Comes a slow and cautious voice, still standing out in the hallway. “You look...” Nico trails off then. Maybe he doesn’t know the correct words to describe the expression on Will’s face. “ _Terrorizzato_.” He settles on a language Will doesn’t know. It sounds kind of flowery, though. And nice...

Will shakes his head, deciding his fears are irrational. Nico died at Will’s age, clearly, and he hasn’t given him any reason to be afraid. Again, _so far_. Better not to find out the ghost has rage issues, anyways. They’ll just have to work fast.

“Sorry, I’m fine.” Will assures. Nico seems put off by the amount of eye contact he’s making, so he tries to avert his gaze in another direction. “You can come in.” He then adds, gesturing inwards.

The open invitation leaves Nico looking somewhat shocked, but it seems like he’s trying to play it off as nonchalance. Despite himself, a bit of amusement creeps into the back of Will’s mind. It’d probably been awhile since Nico had been invited into a home— or approached one with someone who could see him.

Slowly, he enters the apartment, his constant aura of coldness following him closely behind. Will quickly reaches for a green fleece hung on a messy coat rack his mom has been talking about organizing. (Will will probably end up doing it for her.) Pulling it over his head, he reaches to close the front door.

Nico’s looking around the place in silence, eyes moving from one object to the next with too much interest. Will begins to wonder if Nico has been inside _any_ apartment since his death. He can pass through walls, so it shouldn’t be that hard to break into places. Maybe he’s just polite? Surely he’s been inside his own house, which must be around here somewhere. Unless he’s stuck to the spot he died.

Calculating his time so not to be burst in on talking to himself, Will glances at the small clock shoved onto a table next to the front door. It’s 7 pm now. His mom is taking an extra shift at the bar, like she does every Wednesday. Hopefully, she won’t be home until around midnight. Maybe they’ll even throw her on stage. On her gig nights the latest she’s in is 2 am. He just needs it to be late enough that she’ll figure he’s asleep.

Nico is staring at a baby picture of Michael that’d been carefully hung on the wall. When Will’s friend Cecil had first come to Will’s apartment, he’d hazardously said, “You look cute here.”; Only to find he was sorely mistaken. It felt different now, the way Nico was looking at it. Despite how most people tend to view baby pictures with an air of delight looking back on a new life, Nico seemed to sense there was something melancholic about this one. His emotions are difficult to decipher, but he almost looked sad. Pained. Maybe he was simply reminded of something upsetting.

Before he could think better of it, Will reached forward and placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder. It brushed against something solid and stayed there. Even though he shouldn’t be surprised by this, the sensation of holding onto a ghost was still shocking. It was sharply cold, like collapsing your fingers around a block of ice, except this coldness seemed to seep straight into Will’s bones.

Nico turned, ghostly dark eyes staring hard at where Will’s hand was placed. Supposedly, he wasn’t used to it either, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, he looked like he was melting into it, almost soaking up the touch.

Will feels bad when he draws his fingers back, especially when Nico grimaces like it hurts, but his hand was beginning to go numb. Nico’s attention floats to his eyes. “We’ll figure this out.” Will tries for a polite tone, hoping it sounds as sincere as he intends. “I’ve helped ghosts before. Like you. You won’t be stuck here much longer.”

Nico considers him carefully, as if he can’t quite figure him out. Will isn’t sure if this is a good thing.

They’re about the same height, he realizes then. Nico may be about an inch or two taller then him, though it’s hard to tell...him being a ghost and all. His hair used to be dark, and it’s wavily messy, hanging down to his neck. Some strands at the front of his face curl up slightly. It looks soft, for ghost hair. Silky. Will wonders what it’d feel like to touch. _Probably cold_.

“Are you an angel?” Nico asks suddenly, very serious.

Will chokes, feeling heat creep up his neck. He can’t help but let out a startled laugh. “ _What?_ ”

“I— I mean—” Nico looks embarrassed, perhaps realizing he’s let that thought slip, and he wrings his hands together. “I just, I’ve never been that religious, but, I don’t know... You can see me and you’ve been talking about— an _after_ -afterlife. Some sort of ascension? And you look...”

“Like an angel?” Will finishes for him, his face unbelievably red.

“ _No!_ ” Nico says quickly, eyes wide. He almost seems frightened. “Well— Yes. Not in that way! It’s— your hair—”

“ _My hair?_ ”

The front door opens and Will whips his head around to see his mother entering. _Of course she’s home early today._

“Will?” She asks, startled that he’s standing right by the door. “Did you just get in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Will covers quickly, rubbing his face in an attempt to hopefully reduce his blush. She’s holding groceries and Will steps over to take two bags, abruptly pulling all his attention away from Nico and their previous conversation.

Her hum in response is soft and light, indicating a good mood, as she makes her way over to the kitchen. “God, it’s freezing in here, isn’t it?” She comments loosely along her way.

Will takes a chance to glance at Nico, who is looking like a deer caught in headlights despite the fact that Will’s mom can’t see him. Discreetly holding up his index finger to hopefully pass on, ‘wait a moment’, he follows his mother’s trail. Her greying auburn hair is pulled up into a thoughtless bun, still in her plain black work clothes.

“I’m surprised you’re home so soon.” Will comments slowly, setting the two grocery bags he grabbed onto the wooden table in their small kitchen.

“The bar was rented out for something special and they didn’t need most of us. We all got off early today.” His mom explained, turning around to lean the back of her palms against the sink. She’s smiling at him, with the same excited glint in her eyes she gets when she’s planning something. “So, I thought tonight I’d make something special... And maybe we could watch _Star Wars_ , like old times. The one you like.”

“ _A New Hope_.” Will fills in absent-mindedly, eyeing Nico whose got his hands in his pockets and is almost masterfully blending in with the shadows against the wall. He turns back to his mom, the excitement in her eyes and all, feeling a creeping self-reproach as he rubs the back of his neck. “I actually have a lot of homework to do tonight...”

Her face falls slightly, but she attempts to hide it with a small smile. “That’s alright.” She says, beginning to unload a bag of groceries. “Some other time, then.”

Will can feel her disappointment. They don’t get a lot of time together, usually. He’s got to make this up to her. After he figures out this...Nico situation. “I’m sorry.” He expresses. “It’s just this english project, and—”

“It’s really okay.” She interrupts, reaching forward to brush a hand on his cheek, and Will simpers, a dimple revealed. Then, abruptly, she asks, “You remembered to take your meds today, right?”

Will is somewhat taken aback by this question. “Mom, of course. You know I don’t forgot things like that.” He assures her quickly. It’s true. Will doesn’t forget things like that. Of course, they don’t really do much for him. He can still see ghosts, after all. But he’s done enough research to know it’s safe for him to take the right amount, just to keep his mom at ease.

“Okay.” She says, then she smiles again, softly. Sadly. “I’ll make ravioli tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

When Will closes the door to his room Nico is already sitting on his bed, eyes trained on the wall painted a faded light blue.

Will sets down his backpack next to a cramped wooden bookshelf, filled neatly with as many books as it can fit, including a Gray’s Anatomy indexed with multi-colored sticky notes. Taking a seat in his desk’s chair, he clears his throat lightly.

The cold is all too prominent now in his small room, packing Will in a refrigerator. A chill runs down his spine before he can help it, and he curls his fingers into his fleece’s sleeves.

“So, Nico.” He begins, attempting a voice he hopes sounds sincere. He wants to figure this out quickly, sure, but that wouldn’t involve forcing Nico to give him the information he needs. Though, truthfully, that method could result in the best case scenario... “For this to work I’ll need to know about your past. Specifically, an item important to you. It has to be special, something you feel could be keeping you attached to our world. Like, a necklace. Or a photograph. Anything, really.”

Nico looks guarded suddenly. He reaches down to pick at a hole in his jeans.

“You could just start with where you lived?” Will suggests helpfully.

There’s a steady pause and then he takes a long, drawn out breath. Eyeing the small window at the back of Will’s room, he responds, “I grew up in Italy.”

Italian. That must’ve been the language Nico had been speaking earlier. His voice has had the tinge of an accent, but it’d been barley audible. Impossible to place until now. Nodding thoughtfully, Will ventures, “You must have moved, then?”

Nico turns back to stare at him, a confused look crossing his face. “No.” He says plainly. “I died in Italy.”

Will looks back mildly, waiting for the punchline, but Nico’s expression is as cheerless and blank as ever. He’s not making a joke— _but how could that be possible?_

“That’s not...” Will can’t find his words, and his voice sounds weak in protest. He must have it wrong, right? He must’ve forgotten. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean _am I sure?_ I think I know where I died.” Nico sounds a little accusatory now, something sparking in his eyes. It’s like he’s purposefully poking holes in a novel Will’s been working on for decades.

“I don’t mean—” Will tries, grasping for the right words to better explain. He can’t help but feel his heart pick up a bit at the sound of Nico’s anger. It’s just the fact that Nico can touch him, which still clings to a small part of his fears. His fingers curl around the seat of his chair. Despite this, his voice turns sharp. He’s never been one to actively express trepidation. “This is _not_ how things work. You can’t die in one place and spend your afterlife in another. You are always attached to to the place in which you died. Or— sometimes— if you’re lucky— the place you grew up in. You can’t be here if you lived and died in Italy.”

“Well,” Nico mutters, arms crossed loosely in an irritated manor, deflating somewhat, “Maybe someone forgot the _rules_ when I died.”

“That doesn’t happen.” Will supplies, frowning, and maybe he sounds frustrated as well, but he can’t help it. “Just— alright, how far can you go?”

Nico gives him a strange look, almost offended. “What does that mean?”

“There must be a parameter.” Will states matter-of-factly. He pulls out a bus route map of New York that was tucked in one of his backpack’s pockets. Unfolding it, he shows Nico the map. “How far can you drift before everything goes black?”

Nico’s eyes have widened a bit now, and he’s giving Will that stare again that religious people give portraits of Jesus Christ. He feels himself shifting uncomfortably under it. “How do you...” He shakes his head, as if deciding the question is meaningless, and drifts his gaze back to the map. “I think...from here to here. The body of water always throws me off...”

“The Atlantic Ocean?” Will asks, turning the map to stare at it himself. Realizing where Nico’d been pointing, he suddenly feels a headache coming on. “You mean— _all_ of New York? The entire _city_?”

Nico shrugs, uncomfortable.

Will’s beginning to think he’s in over his head. A ghost who’s never been to the place his afterlife is trapped— an afterlife which is narrowed down to a city populated with nineteen million people— a ghost who can _physically_ make contact with him. God, but how could he ever get rid of the boy now?

Carefully, Will scans Nico’s face. There’s something sad in his eyes again. Something that had settled there when Nico was staring at the baby picture of Michael. It was helpless and lonely. Devoid of hope.

There’s a twinge in Will’s gut and suddenly he feels bad for thinking about getting rid of Nico. He deserves more, after all. All ghosts do, no matter what.

Will looks down at his hands, fingers gripping the map. His nails are jagged and short. He’s got a bad habit of biting them. His joints are tinted slightly pink, and Will wonders if it’s because of Nico. He can still feel his fingertips buzzing from where he’d touched the boy’s shoulder.

“I’ll go.” Nico says, standing up sullenly.

Will can’t help the way his heart constricts. He’ll never be able to sleep if he doesn’t figure out why Nico’s trapped here. Besides— what’s the harm in keeping him around a bit longer? He’ll just— he’ll just have to deal with the feedback. So, Will doesn’t stop himself when he pushes forward and says, “No.”

“Look, blondie—”

Will feels his face flush somewhat at the unexpected nickname, but he shakes his head. “No, you look. I’ll never be able to sleep right if you don’t get the afterlife you deserve. It may be a bit more work then I expected but, I’ll do it. I promise.”

“How?” Nico questions, accusatory tone coming back to haunt the conversation. “By using your magical ghost seeing powers to stare it out of me? Do you glow too?”

“No!” Will flushes again, deeper. What was _with_ this ghost that kept getting to him?

“Will?!” His mom is calling out to him from the hallway next to the kitchen, and Will has to bite his tongue before he says anything more to Nico. “Are you alright?”

He takes a moment to breath before responding, “Yup! All good!”

Hearing her footsteps return back to what she was previously doing, Will lowers his voice. “It’s complicated.” He says.

“I think I can handle complicated.” Nico replies, re-taking his seat.

Will feels himself relax at that, strangely enough, because he hadn’t even known he was tense in the first place. He leans his palms back against his desk. “Alright.” Will says. “I don’t usually give the full speech, but here goes. As you know, ghosts exist.”

“That part is pretty clear.” Nico mutters.

Will ignores him as he continues, “When someone dies their spirit gets trapped in a specific location. That could either be the place they died or some extremely important location in their lives. Usually, their home. I mean, that was a fact...” Nico frowns. “Wherever you end up, the important thing is what’s trapped here with you. Somewhere in your afterlife’s location is an item keeping you trapped to this world. To get rid of it, we’ve got to burn it. That’s what sets your soul free. You being trapped to the entirety of New York City...”

Nico’s shoulders sag in defeat. “Of course.” He mumbles, pessimism seeping through his words as he laughs lightly. It’s a nice laugh, Will thinks, if not without a dark undertone. “Of course I’m the special case. I couldn’t just be back in Italy forever. I had to be _stuck here._ ” His words sound bitter now, and Will wonders if he’s talking more to himself.

Will almost wants to reach forward— he’s always been a touchy kind of person, especially when somebody is expressing sorrow— but he thinks better of it very quickly. “I said I’d help you and I will.” Will says, leaving no room for argument. “It’ll just be a little longer then I thought.” He tries for a reassuring smile.

Nico considers him. His thumbs are fiddling together, until they fold in on each other and stop moving completely. His hair looks wind blown and angel soft. Nico being the one to call _him_ the angel kind of seemed funny now. On his face is an expression Will can’t read. Somehow, he feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to. “Okay.” He says shortly.

Will smiles a little more. Maybe it’s still strained— he knows what’s to come— but helping people is what he’s good at, right?

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made Nico taller then Will. Put down your pitchforks! Hear me out real quick— Nico and Will are aged up in this story, (I’ve always believed they should’ve started dating when they were older, anyways.)
> 
> I’m also a strong believer that Nico has the ability to grow and when he does have a growth spurt he gets fucking tall, where-as Will stays the same height.
> 
> Anyways, that’s just my thinking. Comment if you liked! Thanks for reading.


	3. Burning Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! I’m back with another update!! So, I’ve got some things planned, lots of things, and I hope you all will stick around for this journey.
> 
> Thanks for waiting out the update for me, I know this took awhile. Things are rocky in my life, not to mention being behind on school and everything of that nature—
> 
> Regardless, I’m trying to stay focused on the things I enjoy doing— one of which happens to be writing fanfiction. So, here you are!!
> 
> Please, don’t mind me, get on with the story!!

Wind rips at the window of the bedroom previously foreign to Nico, clambering against the wall as if upset by the obstruction of a building. If the wind were strong enough it would plow down this apartment complex without a thought. He imagines it now— the well-constructed structure crumbling around him, brick spilling down in pieces, dry wall ripping apart. He’d still be standing in the same place. Alone.

Will had gone to bed, as had most of New York City. He’d promptly promised Nico more help tomorrow. Supposedly his English project was real, and (as he’d sternly reminded Nico) human’s— _alive_ ones, at least— need rest.

It had been awkward at first. Probably mostly on Nico’s side. He didn’t say it out loud, and he wouldn’t, but he desperately didn’t want to be told to leave and come back. Something about Will’s home felt... safe. Enclosed. Outside was cold and full of unwanted memories. Here, nearer to Will, he could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him. It was nothing like he’d ever felt before in his decades as a spirit. He couldn’t bring himself to go.

Even before, when he’d stood to drift off somewhere else, there was always a bluff in the action. Something in the back of his brain screamed at him to stop. How could he tear himself away from how _alive_ one little touch made him feel? Selfishly, as seemed on trend, Nico didn’t think he could.

Will seemed to sense Nico’s unwillingness. He also didn’t seem very surprised, nor did he bring it up, much to Nico’s nervous relief. Instead, Will had wordlessly grabbed his pajamas and made his way towards a bathroom tucked in the apartment’s tight hallway.

When he’d gotten back he bid Nico a semi-awkward, if not considerate, goodnight. Then he’d pointedly turned his back to the ghost when crawling into bed.

It didn’t take Will long to fall asleep, Nico noticed. Surprisingly quick, actually, and Nico knew this because there was really nowhere else for him to stare. Well— there was... technically. But sitting in a shadow, compact in the corner of Will’s dark room, he couldn’t help but find his eyes drawn to the brightest thing around— the boy’s hair.

Involuntarily, Will had rolled over, dark green blanket wrapped around his body warmly. The freckles which started from the tip of his semi-tanned nose spread across his skin endlessly. There was no chance of counting them correctly— there must’ve been hundreds. _Kind of like stars_.

Bianca had had freckles. Only a couple. Not close to as many as Will. No, they’d lightly sprinkled over her cheeks, a few drops at a time. He’d counted those before, and he remembered vividly the exact amount. Twenty-four. More, sometimes, when she’d been in the sun. But, usually, exactly twenty-four.

_They used to watch the stars, too._

His gaze drifted towards the window, New York at night spread out before him. There was nothing to see around here. Nothing like how Italy used to be. Just blackness when you looked up, for miles and miles. Every inch of which Nico had seen multiple times.

It was kind of like the night he’d first met Percy Jackson, sprawled out across the pavement, blood pooling under his left temple. A cold, windy, and starless night.

_Kind of._

* * *

_It’s January 1st and Nico is wondering vaguely what another cold year really means for him. He doesn’t age. Doesn’t change in any way. His life is a never ending constant._

_Hearing the celebration just makes him feel more bitter. Resentful, even. The warm-blooded New Yorkers celebrating a new year of life and love and family._

_Not him._

_He crosses his arms tightly, though it makes no difference in his body temperature. Two kids run past, sparklers in hand, giggling their heads off, and Nico’s scowl can’t help but deepen. He’s been through this before. Many, many years of it. It doesn’t make the pain any less harsh. Another year of **this**._

_New Year’s was always the worst day to be dead._

_Coming across a nearby alleyway, Nico shrinks into the shadows, watching the few passerby’s go about their lives. Christmas lights are still up and a Santa even stands down the block, asking for donations. Nico vaguely remembers Christmas in Italy. Himself, his mother, and Bianca. He’d been so young then, so naïve. He hadn’t appreciated how precious his last moments with his mother were, either._

_There’s a sudden thump out on the road, followed by the screeching of tires, and Nico’s eyes are drawn quickly to a horrifying scene._

_Someone had just gotten hit by a car._

* * *

“Earth to Nico.”

Nico blinks, shaking his head. He’s staring at Will, whose obnoxiously waving a hand in front of his face. Sun is streaming through his bedroom window now. It’s morning.

“ _What?_ ” Nico snaps. His voice comes off harsh and he frowns because of this, which probably makes him look even angrier.

Will takes a step back, looking startled. “Sorry.” He says sincerely. “You just looked super dazed and weren’t responding to your name.”

Frowning more, Nico looks down. “It’s fine.” He mumbles.

Will seems unsure, but doesn’t say anything else. Instead he moves over to his desk and begins neatly placing notebooks into his backpack. Right. He goes to school.

Suddenly, Nico feels some weird sense of panic cloud his system. Would he have to stay here all day waiting for Will? Would he— come with him?

His eyes travel back to Will, whose focused on maintaining an organized school bag. He’s wearing loose fitting faded blue jeans tied up with a light brown belt, and a white t-shirt which reads something’s geeky under an oversized plaid yellow collared shirt. (The yellow seems a bit much, considering his boy’s hair.) Most of his clothes look worn enough to be hand me downs, especially the shoes; old, white sneakers.

Nico thinks back to the baby picture he’d seen when entering the house. There was something off about it, he knew that. Something mournful. He wondered if any of Will’s clothing had belonged to that boy...

Glancing over Will’s desk, something catches his attention. A small handbook, the type schools pass out at the beginning of the year detailing rules and expectations. It was something any normal kid would’ve shoved in a drawer never to look at again, but Will was picking it up along with the rest of his school luggage. That wasn’t what caught Nico’s eye, though. It was the school’s name on the front cover.

“You go to Half-Blood High?” Nico asks slowly, a strange kind of excitement creeping into his system.

Will had just finished zipping up his backpack when he gives Nico a strange look. “Yeah?” He says, like he isn’t sure himself. Granted, it must be a weird question to hear from a ghost who hasn’t been to school in years. Or, for the matter, knows anyone.

There’s a debate brewing in Nico’s mind, whether or not he should bring up the specific name— but he can’t stop himself from considering the possibilities. Percy goes to Half-Blood High. If Will knows him, maybe Percy would believe Will through second-hand communication. Maybe...just maybe...they could finally talk again. The thought was enough to force words out of his mouth. “Do you know a Percy Jackson?”

A long pause passes over the room. Will is staring him down incredulously, and it takes a second for Nico to realize he's waiting for an explanation.

"I just— I've been around..." Nico shrugs. "I know him."

Will’s eyes widen, "Can he—?"

"No, no, it’s not...” Nico sighs, before semi-begging, “Can you just tell me please?"

Will slings his backpack over his shoulders. His eyes are somewhat narrowed, as if he suspects Nico is planning an elaborate revenge plot against Percy. "No, I don't know him. This may come as a surprise to you but I'm not exactly the most well-known kid in school. Percy is a senior. And probably the most popular kid around here.”

Nico can’t help but feel a level of disillusionment wash over him. Hope is horrible like that. It crushes the soul in ways nothing else could. Even if Will was Percy’s friend, somehow, why would he believe anything Will had to say? _Hey Percy, I know you don’t remember, but you’re friends with a ghost._ Yeah right. He’d think Will had gone crazy no matter what.

Despite himself, Nico hates to sound disappointed, so he hides it under a mask of sarcastic nonchalance. “ _Ri_ ght.” He says.

Will frowns slightly but doesn’t call him out. There’s something about the expression that doesn’t look right on his face. Turning around, he pulls open his bedroom door and disappears down the hallway.

Nico stays where he is, unsure of what to do with himself. Maybe Will expected him to sit here all day. Not that he wouldn’t. So, not wanting to bring it up, he settles back into the corner of the boy’s room, preparing to drift off into his own thoughts, until—

“Aren’t you coming?” Will asks, popping his blonde head back into the doorway.

Nico blinks, surprised, before quickly replying, “Of course.” As if he’d known this was the plan all along.

Will lips twitch upward slightly, in a knowing sort of a way. It seems so natural for him to crack a smile. It’s a little endearing, something in the back of Nico’s mind admits, and it forces Nico to realize what looks so wrong about Will’s frowns. “Well, come on.”

* * *

Will was so silent as Nico followed him to school that he almost forgot the boy could talk to him at all. Ergo, when he suddenly opened conversation with a discreetly whispered, “So...” Nico found himself startled, which was beginning to become an odd pattern. “Percy Jackson...” Will put the name out there like he knew it was somewhat of a touchy subject.

He lets that hang in the air for a second. Nico should’ve known he wouldn’t drop the topic completely. He was trying to help Nico, after all, but the last thing the ghost wanted to get into was his relationship with Jackson. Regardless, it involuntarily made his still heart clench to hear the name spoken by Will.

Seeing that Nico wasn't jumping to speak, Will filled in his thoughts. “I’m guessing a long lost relative of some kind. You do both have dark hair. Er— had.”

“How do you know I had dark hair?” Nico asks, avoiding the topic at hand.

Will shrugs. “Remnants of colors. If you look close enough at yourself I’m sure you’ll see it too. But am I wrong?”

Nico glances down at his translucent jacket. He’ll have to examine this further later on. Since he didn’t really show up in mirrors, Nico never spent much time staring at himself. Mumbling, he relents, “No.”

Will’s smile is too victorious for what they’d been discussing. “That’s what I thought.” Will grins, maneuvering around a hotdog stand. “Anyways, no changing the topic. If he really is a relative of yours, that could be an important piece to solving your...current situation.” He phrased it like Nico’s issue was being a bit behind on schoolwork. “A heirloom or—”

Before Will can continue on, Nico cuts him off. “He’s not related to me, okay? Not in any way. I just know him. That’s all.”

“Nico, it could really help if I—”

“I don’t want to get into it!” Nico snaps, digging his hands into his pockets. Will isn’t taken aback by Nico’s attitude. At least not anymore; but Nico can’t help but feel bad about the way Will’s brows furrow in frustration. He tries for a softer tone of voice as he continues on, “It has nothing to do with me being trapped here, I promise you.”

He smiles now, making sure Will sees it. It probably looks fake because Will seems unimpressed. “If you say so...” He decides. It seems there’s something else on his mind. Clearly he’s holding something back. But he doesn’t say anything more, and Nico doesn’t ask.

* * *

Nico had never attended High School. Italy, war ridden and in the midst of tearing itself apart, wasn’t in the right state of mind to provide him an education. He spent most of his life homeless. State schooling wasn’t really an option. Not that he suffered greatly because of this. Bianca— she’d taught him to the best of her ability. She had been mostly adamant he knew his way around maths. Though, he couldn’t quite remember specific things like how to divide. The thought was a depressing one.

Seeing all these teenagers communing in one place seemed like nothing short of a hell hole. Raging hormones shoved into tight corridors, forced to learn? Whoever thought of that idea must’ve been high on something.

Will seemed to take it in stride, regardless. Granted, he was probably used to the scene. He slipped through the crowded hallways like it was no problem, keeping his head high. Nico had more trouble himself. As soon as they’d entered the building at least three kids had walked straight through him. He tried his best to avoid getting barreled over to no avail, and Will’s curly head was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

The feeling of complete nothingness as one after another he was stepped straight into felt like getting the wind knocked out of him over and over again. He didn’t have lungs, nor did he need air, but in that moment he felt as if he couldn’t breath. He had to get out of there. He had to find a shadow to sink into.

He lost his breath again as he surged forward quickly, leaving behind a wave of shivering students. His franticness increased as his body submerged under invisible water. It was impossible. He knew this. He couldn’t be back... _there_. Sinking down below the surface, unable to make his way back up. But the impracticality of this situation wasn’t stopping his lungs from filling with water. Rushing in through his throat, tearing apart his ribs. His chest was burning. His eyes were singed.

His panic increases as everything around him appears to fade into blackness. He tries to scream, but nothing but bubbles raise from his open mouth. His arms and legs are locked up tight. His body is completely useless. He was drowning.

There’s a hand on his forearm, and he realizes he can feel it when the warmth begins to radiate throughout his body, ricocheting off corporeal bones. His mind solidifies and he’s pulled back to the present. Standing in the corner of a hallway. Lockers surrounding him. Kids passing by, completely unaware.

And Will, gripping his arm tightly, bright blue eyes wide with what could only be described as wonder. “You were hyperventilating.” He whispers. “I’ve never seen a ghost hyperventilate.”

The gratefulness of being pulled out of his sudden waking nightmare washes over him as his wild eyes meet Will’s soft stare. He can’t help but feel the undying urge to pull the blonde boy into a hug. And before he can stop himself, he does.

Will stiffens when Nico wraps his arms around him, intensity in the hold all too clear. He’d never do this. Not normally. But his raging, touch starved brain had just gone over the brink. He needed to feel something real. He needed to feel Will. And god was he warm. Every small spot their bodies happened to make contact erupted like a burning flame. His entire being was on fire. Then, he was melting.

On impulse, he’s pulling Will closer, leaning forward to press his head into Will’s shoulder. His hands are clutching the back of his shirt, slipped under his arms. He hasn’t felt anybody in so long. Hasn’t _hugged_ anyone since Bianca died. Will was like no other. He could feel the softness of his skin. Touch the old fabric of his plaid shirt. He never wanted to move.

Will’s body is still rigid. Nico can feel his heart pounding in his chest like a ticking time bomb. His fingers are clenched into fists at Nico’s shoulder’s, too startled to know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t get a chance to figure it out when reluctant footsteps approach.

“Will? Are you okay?” It’s a girl’s voice, words phrased slowly.

Will jumps and pushes Nico away quickly. His entire body encases in ice water again as the reality of what he’d just done sets in. _Oh god._

The blonde doesn’t look any better. His face has been replaced by a tomato, and his lips have gone slightly blue. There’s something alarmed in those blue eyes. The girl— who sports shoulder length dark purple hair and dark green eyes— seems to notice.

“Will?” She asks again.

Will shakes his head, finally making direct eye contact with who Nico assumed was his friend. “Y-yeah.” He forces out. “Y-yes, yes. I’m fine.”

Nico can’t stay for this. He’s already rushing away as Will begins reassuring the girl. He needs to get out of here. He’ll find Will later.

He can feel Will’s eyes on his back as he disappears through the wall.

* * *

Nico stumbles out into the open, finding himself in the middle of a large American football field. The fresh air does nothing to calm his shaky nerves.

He can still feel the remnants of Will’s touch being zapped away, and his mind is still reeling from the close contact. The thought of what Will could be thinking about him right now frightens him too much. He couldn’t bear to consider the possibilities.

He’d revealed something dangerous in that interaction. Something Will should stay away from. Besides, Will was probably thinking Nico was— was a—

“You boys are ridiculous.” Echoed the sharply familiar voice of Annabeth Chase.

Nico turns to see her walking in a group of five, arms held tightly across her light blue sweater as she shakes her head in disapproval. A smile still plays on her lips, though, as it usually does when interacting with Percy. Speaking of the green eyed skater, he’s walking out onto the track court with a wicked grin spread across his face, donning black jogging pants and a dark blue hoodie.

“Come on, Grace!” He taunts towards a boy with white blonde hair and glasses, whose own outfit consists of black shorts with grey leggings underneath and a purple t-shirt.

“You’re so on, Jackson.” The boy with glasses shoots back, a small smile crossing his face. Behind him stands a short girl with wild, golden-brown curls and a tall, buff Chinese kid who actually looks kind of sheepish. They both appear to be wearing uniforms, which consist of purple polo shirts and black pants / skirts. Back in Italy— when Nico did go to school, before his mother died— he and Bianca had worn uniforms. They were much different then these, though. If the boy and girl weren’t dressed practically the same he wouldn’t have been able to tell.

“We have thirty minutes, Jason.” The Asian boy reminds, rubbing the back of his neck nervously like he doesn’t want to be here. “I don’t want to be late for my next class.”

“Don’t worry, Frank.” The glasses boy— Jason— says reassuringly, patting the Asian boy’s shoulder. “I can kick Percy’s ass in one.”

Percy scoffs. “Big words coming from the man who needs a posse to cheer him on.”

“I could do this any day, any time, Jackson. Frank’s just my ride.” Jason counters, setting up on the track court next to Percy.

Frank blushes in an embarrassed way and sticks a hand into his pocket. The curly haired girl frowns. “Jason!” She scolds.

“I-I mean.” Jason splutters. “Not _just_ my ride, obviously!”

“Enough talk.” Percy cuts in. “Let’s do this.”

Nico makes his way nearer to the group, floating down next to Annabeth. _Just the distraction he needed._

Percy’s tanned skin glints in the sunlight as he stretches upwards. His eyes gleam with the same mischief as always, holding a calculating hint not many people realize is there. Though treated like one sometimes, Percy Jackson is no idiot. Nico knows this for a fact.

He sends Annabeth an air kiss, and as she rolls her eyes Nico ducks his head down, glancing away. In this movement his eyes catch the golden irises of the short, curly haired girl. She’s been staring at him— No, she’s been staring at _Annabeth_. As Nico looks her over, she turns back around.

“Ready?” Jason asks, leaning forward in a skilled starting position.

“Always.” Percy grins. And with that they’re off.

Nico glances to the side again, because he swears he feels a gaze on him, and sure enough it’s the same girl. Except there’s something different about the way she’s looking. Not through him. _At him_. Just like Will. But that’s— impossible. Even as the girl’s eyes seem to scan him over, he puts it on his imagination. There’s no way.

Nico watches as the girl reaches over to squeeze the hand of the Asian boy, who smiles down at her carefully. Something about her face seems weary, but she smiles too, kind and soft. Her eyes gaze past Nico again. Then, they fall to the ground.

Fast footsteps slow to a halt in front of them and Nico realizes he’s missed the whole race. But judging by Jason’s triumphant expression, and Percy’s annoyed grunt, there’s a clear victor.

“I told you you couldn’t beat me.” Jason reminds, barley out of breath. His hands rest on his hips leisurely as Percy heaves up his lungs.

“Fuck... you...” Percy breaths out, swallowing hard. He pushes his body up from where he’d been leaning forward and sticks a finger toward Jason. “Rematch— now.”

“Oh no.” Annabeth stops the competition before it can start, coming over to rest a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “You’re not skipping a class for this. Your mother would kill you.”

Percy groans but allows himself to be steered away. He gives Jason a pointed look, indicating _until next time_ all too clearly. Jason steps over to his two friendswith a wide smile. “How about that, Zhang? Hazel?” He speaks happily.

Frank shrugs more casual now then he was before. “You could never beat me in a wrestling match.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jason asks, as they begin making their way towards the parking lot behind the run-down metal stands.

The curly-haired girl, however, doesn’t budge. She stays where she’d been standing, before reinitiating eye contact with Nico. And as the two boys make their way out of ear shot, she’s nervously walking closer, fingers fidgeting with a golden necklace attached to a bright red ruby.

She can see him. There’s no way she can’t see him. Her eyes are too steadily trained. Too precise. And as she comes up to stand right in front of him, Nico finds there’s no denying it when she says, “Hello. I’m Hazel. You must be a ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make Hazel have the ability to see ghosts. You know I did. Anyways, more solangelo to come!! Comment if you enjoyed!! See ya.


End file.
